when i was growing up, the waves crashing against the assateague island beach sounded like mother nature raking her nails down a sandy chalkboard.<
There are twenty-one of me
inside of me
One for each year of life
on this Earth
At eight years old, plead with your father to turn off the Spanish-language songs blaring from the radio.
Cassie (she/her): Hi Emma Mei and Acacia, can you start by telling me a little bit about yourself?
It is not lost on me, the irony of reading The Idiot as my clock reads midnight: I have work in 8 hours. But I am captivated.
Everyone around me is in constant motion, much like the waves roiling and knots coiling inside me. I so badly want to join in on the excitement.
This photo was taken on a Tuesday morning before a long day of classes.
Every sound wave is a pattern.
Every sound wave has its own frequency, a wavelength recreated over and over again.
To my friends,
You are the pieces of my puzzle that make me whole. This is for you :)
two cultured, my mind cluttered, i struggle, attempt to juggle.
My fondest childhood memories involved two simple things: a kitchen counter, and a song.
Dear Beloved Reader,
I have a confession to make.
